


Dr. Myriel's Home for Last Resorts

by FroggyFemme (orphan_account)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Eating Disorders, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/FroggyFemme
Summary: The hardest part of recovery, Jehan thinks, is making it last.
Relationships: Claquesous/Fauntleroy (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Fauntleroy & Jean Prouvaire, Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Kudos: 5





	Dr. Myriel's Home for Last Resorts

**Author's Note:**

> READ WITH CAUTION!  
> Disclaimer: I have an ED and am in no way trying to romanticise or glamourise having an eating disorder. I am also not trying to deter anyone from recovery, and anything anti-recovery mentioned in this story are strictly thoughts of the characters and do not reflect my own thoughts or beliefs. EVERYONE deserves to recover and i encourage any of you who may struggle with disordered eating to reach out to a loved one, or at 1-800-931-2237.

The hardest part of recovery, Jehan thinks, is making it last. 

Jehan isn’t better. They know this, and at this moment, so does everyone else. 

That’s why they’re here, sitting in the back of R’s cramped SUV, driving for god knows how long to god knows where. Like many things, it started with a thought. Well, in reality, it started with a math problem, but they won’t admit that. Jehan can’t manage to make something so unapologetically plain and completely pathetic as a math problem seem tragic. 

So, it's a thought.

The day was the same as every other day. They would wake up, pretend not to see the nutrition label on everything in the fridge (they didn’t need to, they knew them all), eat whatever they wanted (or what they knew to want), check their phone (avoiding any photo sharing platforms), get dressed (find such an outlandish combination of clothes that no eyes will linger on them), pack their stuff and head to class.

It was 8:37 a.m., and they had just started to pay attention to Mme. Beauchamp, their calculus professor. Some other student in the front asked for an example problem, and she delivered. 

They can’t even remember exactly what she said but, she mentioned food. 

And clearly that's all it took.

Any motivation to focus dissipated, and ever since then Jehan has been in a haze. They don’t remember redownloading “the app-that-must-not-be-named”, as Courfeyrac calls it, but they clearly did. They also can't remember how anyone found out it was back on their phone, but again. Someone clearly did. 

It's been a week since then and they've been sleeping over at various apartments. They've gone from being squished between Joly, Bousset and Musichetta while watching true crime, to the pull-out couch in Enjolras and Grantaire’s shared living room, to even the front seat of Feuilly’s RV. They could hear the nagging voice in their head, telling them that they were all giving them the last taste of companionship before sending them off again, to some hand-picked facility where they can spend 2 weeks pretending to get better, while everyone else in their life gets a break from having to deal with them. Except this time, they didn’t even let Jehan pick the place. 

Because despite being 24 years old, Jehan cannot take care of themself. Clearly.

So here they are, on the way to some experimental treatment facility so maybe they'll finally get over themself and stop relying on the people around them to take care of them like a child. 

Before shoving them into the car, someone handed them a pamphlet explaining the place and its unorthodox treatments. They've been avoiding reading it, though. 

Maybe they don’t want to accept that they relapsed again, they don’t want to admit to themself that the treatment didn’t work, that they still aren’t better.

But, the car isn’t going to just turn around and drive back the hour and a half it took to get here, and they aren’t going to magically erase this relapse from thin air. So, they release their white knuckled grip and carefully unfold the crumpled pamphlet. Given the pictures they include, the place looks like a small inn or apartment complex, which by itself isn’t totally strange. But, the ‘house rules’ are what really catches their eye. 

In bold white text it reads: 

Myriel’s Home for Last Resorts, Rules and Regulations:

\- Roommates assigned BEFORE patient arrival.  
\- Roommates MUST accompany one another at all times, including during bathroom use.  
\- Only one patient may have visitors at a time.  
\- All meals made to order.  
\- Any food or drink besides ones provided at breakfast, lunch and dinner must be opened or prepared by the patient’s roommate.  
\- Group therapy every friday.  
\- Discussion of food, weight, shape, eating disorder-related behaviours, dieting, calories, or feelings about food encouraged.  
\- Attendance to meals is mandatory.  
\- No nurse supervision after mealtimes.  
\- Blind weigh-ins twice per week.  
\- Medications will be delivered to rooms at appropriate times.  
\- Patient rooms and belongings NOT susceptible to searches.  
\- No violence to other patients and nurses.  
\- Respect of property and others’ belongings is mandatory.  
\- Failure to comply with any house rule may result in punishment, such as restriction of privileges.  
\- Any restrictions or punishments placed on a patient applies to the patient's roommate.

Suddenly, Jehan feels faint. They're gonna be stuck with a stranger and will be completely reliant on them. And the worst part is, is that they know it’ll be for nothing. This place is for the people who can’t recover, it's a literal last resort and their roommate will have to watch them fail yet again and once they've somehow managed to convince the staff they're better, all of their friends will have to watch them, too. 

The haze sets back over them. They miss the tight hugs and whispered goodbyes. They float the way to their room, barely comprehending the gentle sounds of nurse's voice. All they can do is sit on the bed, until a strained voice breaks through the fog.

“You know, you don’t have to keep fondling your collarbones, I can assure you, they are definitely still there.”

Jehan turns their head to look at the source of the voice, and gets an eyeful of neon colors. The person, who Jehan assumes is their roommate, has a head full of cerulean curls that pairs nicely with their highlighter yellow hoodie. 

“Who are you?” Jehan asks stupidly.

“I'm Fauntleroy…? I literally introduced myself to you like 5 minutes ago.”

“Sorry i-i… I wasn’t paying attention I guess.”

Fauntleroy giggles at that, “Yeah I figured. Well, call me Faunt, I go by they/them pronouns and I will be your roommate. Obviously…”

There's a pause.

“And you are?”

They can feel themself turn red as they reply.

“Oh! I'm Jehan, I also go by they/them pronouns and I will also be your roommate…uhm..Obviously…” 

Faunt’s giggling doesn’t stop until it's a full blown hysterical laugh that causes tears to pool around their kohl smudged eyes. Jehan doesn’t really get what's so funny, but they can’t help from laughing, too. It feels like hours until they’re able to catch their breath. And by the time they both stop chuckling at nothing, Jehan’s side is cramped and their heart rate is going wild. And somehow, they realize, they don't feel the haze setting in again.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Title from Clear by Twenty One Pilots (I don't support Tyler Joseph)


End file.
